Page 124 of Fly Back to Me
Olivia’s a hopeless dreamer. She’s the woman who sat in a café that Saturday morning, thinking of all the ways she’d return to the man who saved her. Thinking of all the ways she could thank him, never knowing she was reviving the other man sitting behind her.
And once upon a time, she dreamed those men together.
On a damn Post-it note.
Chapter 46
Olivia
“What are your dreams, Olivia?”
I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that unless I was being interviewed, and even then, it wasn’t an honest question.
That was the moment that changed it all for me.
That was the moment my feelings for him were no longer unrequited.
Falling in love with Cade was reckless. Lightning speed as I dove headfirst with every impulsive action.
It was thrilling.
Madness.
But thrills are a temporary high, and the more I ponder our story, I realize that maybe it was the leap that’s fleeting. Perhaps it’s the fall that’s endless. An infinite plunge, sinking into every layer that makes up Cade Owens. He’s not the hero I ever expected to find after all this time, but my expectation was overrated. Too cliché for a man as amazing as him.
One leg is tucked under my bent knee as I lean against the bark. Across the patchy ground, green leaves peek behind the guardrail, the smell of pollen whirling under my nose. The warm sun beams down on my face, a gentle wind brushing through the loose strands of my fishtail braid.
Then I stare at the blank notebook paper on my thigh, smiling softly when I begin writing.
They Met Twice
The first time they met, she needed him.
The second time, they needed each other.
A second chance.
The beauty of a second chance is that they’re gifted to certain people. There’s always intent behind it, and it would be foolish not to discover what that purpose was. When life tosses people together, there has to be some experience to endure or lesson to learn. But when life continues to tangle their paths over and over, maybe that’s just life’s way of saying they were built for every moment. Not just the simple times or the rough ones.
Both.
And every road between.
Somehow, their souls were searching for each other without knowing what to look for. Somehow, life brings back the person who’s meant to stay.
Life flies them back.
Maybe my writing motivated me to do it, or maybe I’m just a sucker for the dramatic.
My palm lays flat on the cool glass, eyes scanning the globelight fixtures and Tiffany blue benches of The Grind. As jumbled as my stomach is, I can’t place if it’s disappointment or relief.
Disappointment because I don’t see that leather coat I miss so very much, or relieved because I don’t exactly know what I would say just yet.
My fingers absently land on the belt of my high-rise jeans as I inhale. A smirk greets the corner of my mouth, turning back the hands of the clock to so many small moments.
Tiny figments I’ll cherish for many lifetimes.
I turn to take a onceover of the cars lining the sidewalk, displeasure rearing its ugly head when his white Harley isn’t decorating the curb too.
